Peirce Strings

Posted November 1, 2002 By Dave Thomer

While John Dewey is considered one of the classical pragmatists, ‘pragmatism’ is not a word he often used to describe his way of thinking. Rather, the term was popularized in the early 1900s by Harvard philosopher William James, who credited the term to an old friend of his named Charles Sanders Peirce. For a number of reasons, Peirce never attained the academic successes of Dewey and James, and he gradually developed a complex philosophical system that is beyond the scope of both my expertise and this article. However, in a series of articles published in popular magazines in the late 1800s, Peirce set forth in rather clear terms a number of the principles that James and Dewey later adopted and developed.

Peirce was deeply interested in what he called the fixation of belief. Belief by Peirce’s definition is the opposite of doubt – when we have a belief, we know how we should respond to a given situation, but when we are in doubt, we are momentarily unable to act. The doubt acts as an irritant, provoking us to do something to establish a belief and therefore regain our ability to act. Let’s take a somewhat trivial example to illustrate the point. If I want to go somewhere, I might have to decide whether to take the bus or walk. If I already have some established belief about which method of travel is better, I’ll choose that method without much of a thought, and go about my business. But let’s say I can’t decide. I am in doubt over the preferred method of travel, and so I neither walk nor take the bus. Instead I need to take some kind of action to resolve the doubt. I might check my pocket and realize I don’t have exact fare, at which point I believe that walking is the best course of action. Doubt resolved, course of action chosen, I can proceed.

According to Peirce, the human being doesn’t really care how the doubt gets resolved. It just wants the doubt gone. However, human history has revealed that some methods are ultimately more effective than others. Peirce defines ‘more effective’ according to the original goal of eliminating doubt – if a method generates a belief that generates a new doubt almost immediately, it’s not a very good method. Peirce identified four commonly used methods, and he wasn’t shy about pointing out his favorite.
Read the remainder of this entry »

        

How I Learned to Love Comics Continuity

Posted October 15, 2002 By Dave Thomer

So a few weeks ago Pattie and I were visiting my mother, and the premiere of Birds of Prey hit the screen. If you haven’t caught it, the basic premise is that three attractive female superheroes and one attractive male cop run around Gotham City fighting crime. With all the attractive people running around, the show certainly fits into The WB’s overall oeuvre, but that’s not why my family sat down to watch. Since the show is loosely based on the DC comic of the same name, we were there to observe – and where necessary, explain – where the show’s writers drew their inspiration.

And that’s the true genius of the show, from where I’m standing. It draws concepts from just about every interpretation of Batman over the last 25 years, and smooshes them all together with some attractive people and Top 40 hits. Pattie, my brother and I spent the night trying to explain it all to my mother.

“The therapist is a bad guy?”
“Yeah, she came from the animated series.”
“When did Catwoman have superpowers?”
“The Tim Burton movies.”
“The Joker shot Batgirl?”
“Yeah, Alan Moore wrote that in the mid-80s.”
“Wait a second, Batman has a daughter?”
“That’s from the seventies.”
“Who’s that in the Batman suit?”
“The guy from the OnStar commercials.”

Now, you may think that we’re freaks for keeping track of all this information. On the other hand, right now Fox is broadcasting the World Series and keeping track of the number of outs the Angels have made on ground balls. Every supermarket checkout lane includes multiple guides to the latest soap opera goings-on. And there are plenty of folks who know so many details about major military battles that they go out and re-enact the things. So obsessive attention to detail is not the sole purview of the superhero comics fan.

On the other hand, we do have some of our own little quirks, but I think the world would be a better place if those quirks became more widely accepted. Take the retcon, for example. Retcon is a shortened form of ‘retroactive continuity,’ which is what happens when one writer decides that some story that got written ten or twenty years didn’t actually happen the way the previous writer wrote it. For example, in 1985 Marv Wolfman and George Perez produced Crisis on Infinite Earths, which basically established that nothing DC Comics ever published actually happened, unless someone later decided to say that it did. (That this sort of revision happens often enough that comics fans not only came up with a technical term for it, but eventually needed a shortened slang version, should tell you something.) Sometimes this is necessary because the old story attempted to be current and topical, which is often a bad idea because time never really passes in comic books. Sometimes the new writer doesn’t like the old writer, and sticks in a retcon as a bit of a literary poke in the eye. And sometimes the writer is just trying to surprise people, with the old ‘Everything you knew is wrong!’ trick.

Either way, I think it would be fun to be able to employ the retcon in our everyday lives. It could work like instant replay in football, where each half the coach can throw a red flag on the ground and get the ref to look at instant replay to change a call.

BOSS: Those proposals you were supposed to send to the Los Angeles office never got there, and so we lost the big account! You’re fired!
DAVE: (throwing flag on the ground) That’s a terrible plot development. I demand a retcon.
BOSS: Great job getting those proposals done at the last second! The client’s so happy they’ve sent you this priceless collection of rare gems as a token of their appreciation, and we’re giving you that big promotion and the desk with the comfy chair!

Then there’s the ‘imaginary story.’ This occurs when the writer of a story wants to make clear that no one will ever acknowledge the events of the story again, and they will have absolutely no repercussions for any of the characters’ ongoing plotlines, and therefore should be distinguished from the non-imaginary stories of people who fly, run at the speed of light, and stick to walls. This supposedly gives the writer license to tell edgier, more outrageous, or more ridiculous stories, although it often results in ‘What if Superman’s rocket were found by Batman’s parents?’ On the other hand, imagine waking up and declaring that today is actually an imaginary story. Eat all the junk food you want. Rip off a mattress tag. It doesn’t matter – it’s an imaginary story! Of course, when it’s over, you may not remember that any of it happened, but hey, that might be a good thing too. Those mattress clerks can get really protective.

There is one potential drawback to this concept, as Birds of Prey the TV show aptly illustrates. No matter how many writers try to simplify things, no matter how many retcons they may employ, no piece of continuity ever really truly dies. There’s always the chance that the imaginary me who ripped off that mattress tag is gonna show up demanding a crossover, and those always end up in trouble. Plus there will undoubtedly be some guy on an Internet message board arguing passionately that my firing was a much better story than the rare gems. At least I can take comfort in the fact that no one pays any attention to people on the Internet.

        

Lies, Damn Lies, and Sample Size

Posted September 1, 2002 By Pattie Gillett

Hey there. Yeah, you. What magazines do you read? What programs do you watch on television? What radio stations do you listen to? What web sites do you visit? No, I haven’t started channeling John Ashcroft., I’m asking the kind of questions decent marketers ask – if they want to keep their jobs.

In marketing, it’s all about knowing your audience. Or, rather, knowing what a statistically accurate sub-sample of your given audience would do under a given set of parameters. Let’s face it, only the federal government is crazy enough to try and count every single human being in America and even they are trying to get out of the business. Even spaced at ten-year intervals, that can be a pain. Read the remainder of this entry »

        

What’s In That Glass?

Posted August 1, 2002 By Dave Thomer

The linguists and scientists among you will hopefully find this of interest and/or amusement.

One recurring topic in philosophy of language and philosophy of mind, especially the analytic branches of those fields, is the question of what determines the meaning of the words a speaker uses. It should be a pretty uncontroversial assumption that a speaker can’t make words mean just anything. Otherwise we wouldn’t get to have fun correcting people on their use of ‘it’s’ and ‘its,’ ‘affect’ and ‘effect,’ and so on. So what’s the piece of linguistic magic that connects a particular utterance to a particular set of things or phenomena? Harvard philosopher Hilary Putnam argued in the 1970s that what the speaker intends or thinks the word means has no bearing on the actual meaning, and came up with a thought experiment designed to prove his case. It goes something like this:

Imagine a world somewhere that is exactly identical to Earth, right down to the population and languages spoken; call it Twin Earth. The only difference is that the colorless, tasteless liquid that fills rivers and oceans, boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, freezes at 32 degrees, makes up the majority of the human body, and is called ‘water’ by the Twin Earth equivalent of English-speakers, does not have a chemical composition of two atoms of hydrogen plus one of oxygen. Instead it has some bizarrely complex structure that we will abbreviate as XYZ. There is a substance with a chemical composition of two atoms of hydrogen plus one of oxygen on Twin Earth, but it’s an incredibly rare substance that has a black color and a tar-like consistency.

Now imagine that you somehow manage to take a trip to Twin Earth, and you’re pretty thirsty from the long journey. You ask your host for a glass of water. What are you really asking for? According to Putnam, you’re asking for the tarry stuff. You come from the community of Earth-English speakers, and the words you say still mean what they would on Earth, not what they would on Twin Earth.

OK, you may say, fair enough, but how does that make me ask for the tarry stuff instead of the clear stuff? Especially since my hosts will give me a glass of the clear stuff and think nothing of it? According to Putnam, what ‘water’ really means is not ‘the colorless, tasteless liquid that fills rivers and oceans, boils at 212 degrees Fahrenheit, freezes at 32 degrees, makes up the majority of the human body, and so on.’ ‘Water’ means ‘the substance with a chemical composition of two atoms of hydrogen plus one of oxygen,’ and that’s all there is to it. The former definition is a colloquial, secondhand kind of thing, one that’s vague and somewhat problematic at the edges. Add salt and food coloring to a glass of water, and it’s not colorless and tasteless anymore – is it still water? What about heavy water? Mineral water? We need something more precise.

What’s the essence of water, then, the thing that makes it what it is? According to our current scientific understanding, that would be its chemical structure. Relatively few of us have extensively studied the chemical composition of the stuff that comes out of our tap, so we defer to the experts who have, and when they tell us that water is made up of two atoms of hydrogen for every atom of oxygen, we defer to their knowledge and let it determine the extension of the word. (The extension of a word is the set of all the things and phenomena in the world that can be correctly referred to by that word.) Now, even before we knew the chemical composition of water, it had that chemical composition – its essence was always fixed, and so according to Putnam the meaning of the word ‘water’ was always fixed, and it was the job of our experts to determine what that essence was, not decide it for themselves.

The net result is that if our experts were to analyze the glass of liquid your Twin Earth hosts gave to you, they would discover that it was XYZ and not H2O, and they would tell you that, in fact, it wasn’t water. You were speaking a different language from your hosts, and it was a happy accident that the resulting error in translation resulted in you getting the kind of beverage you wanted. The funny thing is, since there are not in fact any experts analyzing the glass, both you and your hosts are unaware that you were really asking for the tarry stuff. Whatever was going on in your head – images of a glass of clear liquid, swimming pools, whatever – had absolutely nothing to do with the actual meaning of what you actually said. What mattered was the external conditions – the structure of the natural world, and the judgment of the experts who analyze that world. Putnam’s position, therefore, came to be known as externalism, and folks are still arguing about it today, even as it’s been refined and expanded through subsequent thought experiments. It all starts on Twin Earth with that glass of liquid, though, so that’s where I figured we’d kick off the conversation.

So what do you think?

        

Something to Cry About

Posted August 1, 2002 By Dave Thomer

It’s been almost five months since our daughter was born, and it’s truly been a wonderful experience. One thing I’m quickly learning is that once you’re a parent, you need to come up with answers to a whole bunch of questions that were once easy to dismiss, and the process of finding those answers can be a painful one. We got a very sharp lesson in that reality earlier this week.

Alex is for the most part a very well-behaved child. She’s friendly, smiles a lot, and can attract a flock of grandmothers in a diner from ten feet away. The one slight hitch is her sleep schedule – as is little surprise given her genes, she has none. She tends to fall asleep late, and she absolutely hates her crib. What’s worse, even while asleep, she can sense the moment you put her in the crib, wake up and start telling you, loudly, what a bad idea this was. Her three favorite places to sleep are her baby carrier, in someone’s arms, and in the bed next to Pattie or me. Since only the latter is a safe place while both of us are asleep, this has usually meant that Pattie and Alex sleep in the bedroom at night, while I take a nap on the couch and wait for her to go to work, so I can catch a few hours in bed with the baby. Not exactly what you’d call conducive to ‘putting the baby on a schedule,’ which is the one piece of advice we seem to get from all corners. Read the remainder of this entry »

        

Once More – with FEELING!

Posted August 1, 2002 By Dave Thomer

1996
Yours truly was a humble editor of low-budget TV commercials at a low-power TV station in a low-ranking market. It was an interesting enough line of work, trying to find new and different ways to show used-car salesmen waving at the camera and bleating a hearty “come on down!�

There weren’t that many new and different ways to do this, mind you. And of course, our lovely account reps expected all of it to be done 15 minutes after they handed in the paperwork — regardless of whether or not the actual shoot for the commercial was scheduled for three days later. “Are you working on my spot yet?â€? they’d ask, poking their head into the somewhat cluttered production office repeatedly. And we laughed, oh, how we laughed. Until we realized they were dead serious. At that point, it became readily apparent that there weren’t nearly enough tape boxes and other heavy objects in the room to throw at them.

And into this arena stepped our youngest and most inexperienced salesperson, who had been tapped by someone to whom I will refer only as Agency Lady to produce a commercial for her newest client, a high-class restaurant in a city we’ll just call Fayetteville, Arkansas (to protect the innocent).

Agency Lady was essentially a one-woman advertising agency, or at least she liked to think so. She had no production facilities of her own, no one else working for her — just her trusty cell phone and an office on wheels. At best, she’s a broker; at worst, an overpaid consultant.

Agency Lady wanted us to come and meet her and her client to discuss a very fancy commercial. And after many a hearty “come on down,� I have to admit that the very prospect was intriguing. What we weren’t expecting was a group of people to whom I’ll refer, for the purposes of this article, as The Committee Of Clueless Individuals Who Should Never Have Had A Say In The Damn Thing. (Or TCOCIWSNHHASITDT for short.)

The Committee was comprised of the following Clueless Individuals.

  • Agency Lady.
  • The Chef, also part-owner of the new restaurant, who had an alarming and most disturbing habit of twisting the filters off of filtered cigarettes and chain-smoking them. As a result, the teeth of this man, who — by default, since he’s presumably preparing many meals a night — one would presume might wish to at least appear sanitary, were black as night.
  • The Chef’s Agent. (We don’t know why he’d need one either.)

Together, these Clueless Individuals were mapping out a grand plan for the newly opened restaurant, including an elaborate commercial beyond the usual expectations for this area. We didn’t mind that. What we did mind, however, was the fact that none of the three members of TCOCIWSNHHASITDT could agree on what, exactly, the commercial in question should be like.

For example, some think that doing the entire spot in black & white would be a powerful and classy statement. Other discussions center on whether there should be a spokesperson on screen, or simply a voice-over. And so on.

We go back a week later to shoot the spot. We spend all day there. Instead of The Chef feeding us some of his fine and likely nicotine-stained cuisine, we have to go foot our own bill for burgers. So much for gratitude.

Then we return home to edit the spot. Lots of dissolves and moody lighting – in color, I might add – and The Chef even graces our production studio to provide the voice-over himself. Everything looks good. Everyone likes it. Everyone seems to agree that this is one of the better productions we’ve turned in.

And then the Committee swings into action.

They decide it needs to be different somehow, with Agency Lady, The Chef and The Chef’s Agent all issuing completely different directives as to how to “improveâ€? the spot which, only a week ago, everyone thought was grand. The Chef’s Agent thinks it should be redone in black & white with spot color on things like candles and flames from the grill. Agency Lady wants it reshot on film. (Few TV stations, if any, use film anymore. Even the top market stations don’t bother — and why should they, when they can rent the equipment?)

And so on. In all, at least a dozen revisions are made and handed in. The Chef’s voice-over is replaced, the spot goes from black and white to color and back again (and again), the music is changed nearly every time, and people keep making suggestions.

And then the damn place goes out of business while revisions are still being made.

Maybe it was the fact that they couldn’t agree on the bloody TV commercial and never got around to putting it on the air more than once or twice.

The saga ends with Agency Lady contacting the station’s sales manager, blaming we, the production guys, for the whole folly, and demanding that the production — which went far above and beyond the typical “come on down!â€? spot — should be pro bono since it was such a fiasco. Numerous 80-mile trips between Fort Smith and Fayetteville, several long days on the clock, and countless hours of post production…and she doesn’t want us to bill her for it.

That incident made me decide to leave commercial production and focus more on promotions, something which always intrigued me anyway. I had, by this point, done numerous promos and found them interesting and entertaining to work on. And if I was entertained, there was a good chance that the viewers would be too. Plus…no Committee of Clueless Individuals. With promos, you’re working directly for the station.

Never again, I said. I started looking for a promo job and eventually got one. It was fun beyond my wildest dreams. And at long last, I forgot about Agency Lady and the TV commercial from hell that had driven me out of the lucrative field of TV commercial production.

Bliss.

2002
Having been to Green Bay and back, I’m now working news promotions at Fort Smith’s ABC station. Not quite as much fun, and very frequently frustrating, but also very challenging. I’ve been here for two and a half years now.

In June, a project from hell slowly begins to coalesce in our Fayetteville office, a project which will bring me back in contact with one of my arch-nemeses from the Committee. They’re still out there – and they’re secretly plotting my destruction. Or perhaps just trying to drive me insane.

The project is an awards presentation video for a homebuilders’ association, and the account rep contacted at our station is assured that this will be a quick edit, only about five minutes long, nothing to it. But there is something to it, something dark and sinister. For our account rep has been contacted by Agency Lady, still doing her one-woman show posing as an advertising agency. The plot thickens.

By the time the sales department contacts my boss in creative services, he already has misgivings about doing a presentation video. This is usually the sort of thing that the commercial production department does. The first time I catch a whiff of Agency Lady’s name in connection with this, I voice misgivings, and remind everyone of her involvement with the Chef’s doomed restaurant. Nobody listens.

(It’s worth a mention here that just once in my life, I’ve always wanted to stage-whisper the words “I tried to warn them…but they didn’t listen.� I just always expected those words to coincide with a tragic blimp accident or something similarly momentous, not a TV project.)

The project keeps getting pushed back because Agency Lady is having a hard time getting her crap together. Once there has been a great gathering of crap, in sufficient amounts to fuel the presentation video on pure fertilizer power alone, Agency Lady will appear and issue instructions. At least this is what they tell me will happen. The crap collection procedure continues until the Friday afternoon before the Wednesday night awards dinner.

Agency Lady arrives, waving a newspaper special supplement recently published to promote the event. In this supplement are no fewer than 44 houses which need to be included, one by one, in this video presentation. Each of these houses is represented not by a photo, but by a very fine-line architectural side-elevation drawing. The kind of very fine-line architectural side-elevation drawing which, when knocked down to TV resolution, results in eye-boggling moire patterns. There are also nearly two dozen sponsors, and at one point Agency Lady asks if the entire newspaper supplement page, which must measure all of 10 x 12 inches in irritatingly tiny type, can be compressed onto the screen.

I respond, truthfully, by telling her that it would look very, very bad — and would be completely illegible. To this, she replies, “Okay, never mind about putting the page on the screen then.â€?

This is a very important thing, as you’ll see later.

That night, after my other duties are finished (around 7:30pm), I set about the extremely arduous tack of copying down, from the newspaper circular, the address and builder of each house/subdivision. All 44 of these things are clustered six to a page in the circular, again in very small type, and I don’t even get all of these things typed up that night. Oh, and once the voice track for the presentation was edited and timed out, it was not five minutes. It was closer to twenty.

Over the weekend, I spend 24 hours getting the project to a point where it’s about 85% completed. I made it look as good as possible, and aside from all the moire patterns on those blasted line-art renderings, it almost did look presentable.

On Monday morning, the client — i.e. Agency Lady — wants to see the project, finished or not. She wants to see it now. Now, keeping in mind that this is Monday and we have our routine duties to perform once again, Agency Lady is politely told that she’ll be able to see it Monday night or Tuesday morning, because we won’t be able to get around to dubbing it off until then. The project is dubbed off that afternoon, and is prepared to be sent up to the Fayetteville office via our microwave link that night at around 7pm.

Tuesday morning I walk in, and discover that I’m being accused of gross incompetence. Apparently Agency Lady wanted all of the houses’ visuals to be nothing more than the newspaper pages. She wanted everything to be exactly as seen in the newspaper circular, in fact. She wanted the newspaper circular’s pages transferred to television in whole chunks.

But did she ever explicitly tell me this? No. Guess my gross incompetence is in the area of telepathy.

By Tuesday afternoon, the project has been taken away from our station, and the station has lost its sponsorship of the awards dinner (for which the presentation video was to be our contribution, in lieu of money). Given that I clocked in over 24 hours of time-and-a-half, I’m sure that in a few days accounting will be lamenting the fact that the sponsorship wasn’t just bought outright. Having me at the station all weekend on the clock will almost certainly prove to be more expensive.

And the capper to the situation? Agency Lady, in a huff, tells us that she’ll be going to a video production house in Fayetteville to get the presentation done right.

So let’s check the score at halfway through the fourth quarter here, shall we?

It took me over 24 hours — spread out over three days — to put together the now-rejected presentation. At the time Agency Lady called to tell us we were being dumped and she was going to “start from scratch,â€? about 27 hours remained before the awards dinner began.

And I learned later in the day that, being a busy production house, the place she had chosen to redo the entire presentation could only allot four hours of prep and edit time. It would’ve taken me about 90 minutes to bring the presentation, as I had edited it, to a state of completion — but she had now burned that bridge with the station’s management.

In short, she had four hours to replicate a project I had taken well over a full day to do.

I’m not a vengeful man, nor do I pride myself on such. Sometimes, however, I do get a little bit of satisfaction from a perfectly natural come-uppance in which I had to take no action.

As I put the finishing touches on this piece, I look at the clock and note that the awards dinner began about an hour ago, and so too, presumably, did the video. If, in fact, Agency Lady, my arch nemesis, got one done. I almost wish I could see what it looked like.

Bliss.

        

When Statutes of Limitations Limit Too Much

Posted August 1, 2002 By Pattie Gillett

It may be hard to imagine that any good could come from the recent scandals involving the sexual abuse of children by Catholic clergy, but, slowly and quietly, there has been some change for the better. That change is that many state legislatures are recognizing that the statutes of limitations for civil and criminal action in these cases need to be extended. Or, in my opinion, eliminated altogether.

Statutes of limitations, which are rarely discussed outside episodes of Law and Order, determine the length of time a state or an individual has to bring criminal or civil charges against someone else for a crime or damaging act. These statues often vary from state to state for every nearly every crime (except murder) and they vary widely in sexual abuse and molestation cases. For example, New Jersey has no statues of limitations on child abuse cases while Massachusetts, ground zero of the recent scandal, has a 15-year limit for child rape and a six-year limit for “sexual touching�. There are now twelve states with no time limits on prosecuting sexual offenses against children. More states, including Connecticut, Pennsylvania, and California have several bills in their legislatures to or extend or eliminate their statutes. Hopefully, before the scandal fades from public memory, there will be many more states that do the same.

The question I ask in all this is: Why do we need statutes on these crimes at all? I do understand the need for statues of limitations in theory. Former Massachusetts Assistant District Attorney Barton Aronson writes:

[S]tatutes . . . ensure that prosecutorial resources are well used. Prosecutions are not like wine: they generally get worse, not better, with age. When a prosecutor first learns of a crime is when he or she is in the best position to investigate and decide whether to prosecute. That is the moment when memories are freshest and evidence most accessible. If the case isn’t worth prosecuting right away, it usually isn’t worth prosecuting at all.

But Aronson is also quick to point out that this is precisely why statues of limitations don’t work in child abuse cases. Prosecutors often don’t learn of child sex abuse cases right away. Most children who have been abused often do not fully realize that what has been done to them is a crime. In other cases, the children are threatened so that they do not reveal the abuse. In still other cases, the children block out the memories of abuse only to “recover� these memories years or even decades later. These frequent delays make it difficult to pinpoint exactly when the “clock� on a statute starts running. In some states, the clock starts with the crime itself; in others it starts with the discovery of the crime, or when the child in question tells another adult what has happened.

In the recent clergy abuse scandal, the Catholic Church was instrumental in hiding evidence of sexual abuse with a tangled web of payouts to families, clergy transfers, hidden files and other acts of deceit. A strict interpretation of the law means the statues have run out on hundreds of these cases. But victims and their families argue that the abusers shouldn’t benefit from the church’s deceit. And, due in part to the public pressure surrounding this case, legislators are listening to their arguments. They are recognizing that the lengths of the original statutes in child abuse cases had little to do with the actual length of a victim’s pain and suffering.

What the writers of those statues and, evidently, many church officials did not realize is that abusing a child robs him of the innocence and trust he desperately needs in his formative years. A child abuser takes what is wonderful about being a child and, in effect, murders it. And, as we all know, there is no statute of limitations on murder.

        

Colorists See the Light: Snakebite

Posted March 1, 2002 By Dave Thomer

Snakebite is the colorist/compositer/digital painter on Image Comics’ The Red Star, a title we’ve talked about once or twice on this site already. It’s his job to bring the computer models and Chris Gossett’s pencils together to create seamless images. (Check out some before-and-after shots from Snakebite’s portfolio.) Snakebite also teaches at The Animation Academy in California, working with artists looking to break into animation. He has strong views on art and its intersection with commerce, and isn’t afraid to share them in his own inimitable style with anyone who asks.

DT: What motivated you to get into coloring? What motivates you to keep doing it?

S: Linda Medley and Lynn Varley were my first two inspirations to color back in the late eighties. I feel the most comfortable when I’m coloring and when you’re a colorist you get to work on many different artists . . . it works well with my A.D.D.

DT: What are the skills you needed to learn to do the job well? How did you go about learning them?

S: Contrast and composition, in my opinion, are the two most important things when coloring. Knowing color theory is important as well, but everyone sees color differently. Like everything mileage is key.

DT: When you first start on a page, what are the first things that go through your mind? What are the initial creative choices you make to set the direction for the finished product?

S: Where’s the focal point and emotional message? These are the two most important questions I ask myself.

DT: What do you think comics readers should look for when they look at a page, in terms of coloring, in order to fully appreciate the work?

S: If they get the emotion and story telling, then I’ve done my job.

DT: What do you think differentiates ‘good’ from ‘bad’ coloring?

S: If it makes you physically sick . . . it’s bad, he he. Subjectivity fucks up any real chance to answer that question.

DT: What of your own works are you particularly happy with? What is it about those pieces that you like?

S: I like my latest work and since that hasn’t happened yet, I couldn’t tell you why, he he he. I’m constantly experimenting and my A.D.D. never lets me like my work for too long. I’m just happy and blessed that I have been able to live off my art for the last 9 years and that I’ve put myself in a position where I can grow as a human and artist.

DT: Can you take us through the process a little bit? What’s it take to get a page or an issue of The Red Star done?

S: I’m the last guy to touch everything minus dialogue, Mr. Starkings and crew [from Comicraft] handles such deeds. Although Goss has always included me in the rest of the process from layout to design, I receive the pencils and the 3D assets to composite in a shot, under the guidelines of Goss’ thumbnail layouts. Pages do not come to me like a typical comic page. Almost every element is its own asset (illustration scan or 3D model).

Once I acquire the 3D models and the pencil illustrations are scanned into my hard drive, Goss comes over to my home studio (MEAT PRODUCT, providing essential creative juices that are lacking in today’s boring corporate diets) for a “COMP” session, or “The Dance” as I like to call it.

It goes like this, each page has many different layers (in Photoshop). Each layer is an asset, a lot of the time (although we’re getting better) not to scale to one another. We move everything around, transform it to fit the layout of the original thumbnail. Although when actually collaborating with another you find other paths and the finished product sometimes finds a new conclusion . . . which is one of the many rewarding aspects of this particular project. It’s not about a dictatorship . . . it’s about creating and growing as artists and individuals.

When the “Dance” is completed the preparation work is far from done. I still have to clean up the pencils. When working with a medium like graphite you’ll always have clean up. A lot of the time smudges assist in the integration between the D’s. I then have to flat the illustration — ‘flatting’ is a process used by us point and click bitches to paint using Photoshop. It is ideal for editorial changes. The last few issues I have had the pleasure of a Flatter, Aaron “Strawberry” Horvath who is a student and instructor at The Animation Academy. This job is bone head work and his skills far surpass the task but it’s nice not to have to do it anymore, he he . . . and it’s nice to give out work to a brutha or sista.

From there the fun begins, I FINALLY GET TO PAINT!!! At this point there’s no one way, I approach it from many positions and try new angels all the time . . . I like to think of it as The Kama Sutra of Digital Painting . . .hmmmm, maybe I’ll write a book one day . . . Anyhoo, so I approach the page with fundamental questions always in mind. My teachers say “If you can find the right question, the right answer always follows.” . . . Or was that a dream? . . . Yoda? . . . In any case, it works. Of course education, experience and mileage really help one find the questions . . .

I approach the 2D and 3D the same way, as far as painting . . . just slap the color right on top, no fear. I’m not held back at all by Goss, he encourages me to go further, push it more . . . until the deadline gets closer, he he. People who have ego problems just couldn’t work with us. No sensitive artist types around this book, except for the crying and hugging — but that’s a different story, he he. It’s gotten to the point where I do all the texture mapping on the 3D as well. We have great 3D crews, John Moberly and more recently KGB (these bruthas are under cover), and they lay down some kick ass rendering and sometimes they push the textures but ultimately this book is printed turning it 2D, so there’s no point in bruthas doing extra work for nada. It takes less time, for our schedule, for me to do it in Photoshop then for us to wait for the rendering process . . . although it puts more on my plate . . . I have a healthy mental appetite so it works out. I like how Goss puts it, “You can’t argue with the end results.” He’s right, I haven’t been this satisfied with a project since I can remember and the extra work we put in, although my eyes could argue with me, is soon forgotten by our bodies and what’s left over lasts forever.

And that’s what art is about, The Red Star and The Animation Academy constantly challenge the roles of the artist in our world to be more than just T&A commercial whores (although a lot of those bruthas work real hard to draw spaceships and girls with great bodies and broken backs). We want to be apart of the movement of artists taking back the industry that affects so many people. The visual medium is a strong one when it comes to education and communication and we should feel responsible for what we put in the collective minds of our world. Don’t get me wrong, I like the occasional porno, it’s the balance, but come on there’s only so much porno a person needs (subjective I know). But let’s define success differently so that it means uplifting people and making them more aware so that they can ask the right questions and find the answers that work for them. This is what makes my artistic journey complete at the moment. I say “at the moment” not because I want to move on just because life has this way about it, so I enjoy what it gives me . . . at the moment . . .

DT: What do you need from your collaborators in order to do your job to the best of your ability? How well do you feel comics companies and creators have given colorists the support and respect they deserve?

S: The Red Star has been the only true collaboration that has been printed in the comic industry that I’ve had the pleasure of working on. I work with a lot of great artists at The Animation Academy and just in general, but this book has been my only gig to see print that is a true collaboration. I don’t get a script but Goss walks me through every page . . . with sound effects, he he. I pick up a lot of my color inspiration from the passion he shows in walking me through the story .

As far as the industry is concerned . . . as a whole (’cause I’ve met individuals who aren’t this way) it can eat a dick as far as its respect for colorists. For the most part it has been dependent on colorists. A lot of artists use colorists as a crutch. We can make or break a book. We are the last ones to touch it and for anyone that says “you can’t polish a turd” I would like to invite them to the “Shiney Shit” exhibits in our industry’s archive. Colorist are always saving the collective asses of the people that come before, i.e. editors, artists, inkers.

Ever hear of the “we’ll fix it in post” attitude? Well, in comics colorists are considered “post”.

I’m not saying colorists are key, but we’re damn close to it.

Colorists are artists and should be treated like one. Anywhere you see a penciller credit or inker, you should see a colorist. We should get paid the same amount as everyone else . . . in some cases more. If you go anywhere to get any service on a “rush” basis you pay more. Well . . . colorists are always getting rushed and our paychecks always seem to come late and light. With technology the way its going, colorists are pulling off color stunts at a caliber that pencilers just aren’t capable of doing. What makes comics these days cutting edge is us point and click bitches, without a doubt. Without colorists Image would not have been as big of a hit as it was in the early nineties. Without colorists everything would be black and white . . . I’m not bitter, I’m just aggressive and tell it like it is. I see a shift of the attitude. More artists are making themselves more savvy and therefore more compassionate to our position in the creating process . . . now if we could only get the editors to see the light of day.

DT: When you say that colorists often have to fix the errors of those that have gone before them, can you be more specific about what kind of errors colorists might have to correct?

S: Deadline is always screwed by the time it reaches us. Now I’m not a cry baby, deadlines are screwed all the time when dealing with artists on any level. The mere fact you associate yourself with a artist screws up your deadline right off the bat, he he he.

I won’t get into past artists’ attitudes I’ve experienced, but usually problems arise from lack of exposure to other aspects of production. Since colorists are digital we live in the myth that we can click away any problem with our Finish-dis-Shit button.

I like to point fingers on a individual basis, he he, so I’ll just say that color is just as if not more essential when conveying an emotion and/or story and should be looked at with that kind of respect.

DT: Following up on ‘colorists are artists too’ — do you think the creators’ rights movement in comics has overlooked colorists? What can be done about that?

S: Hells yeah. I tried to rally the troops on many an occassion but most of the time the troops don’t want to rally so I’m goin with Gandhi when i say I’m just gonna be the change I want in this industry. If theres something I don’t like goin on I’m just gonna step up to the plate and do my best not to be apart of what i don’t like and focus on the otherside of the spectrum….Keep creating!!!

DT: What type of stuff are you doing at the Animation Academy?

S: As of November 26, 2001, The Animation Academy in Burbank has been certified and its program approved by the Bureau For Private Postsecondary Education of the State of California. This is very exciting for us, we are now capable of offering transferable units for students who want to continue their training at other schools to gain degrees (although we have students from other prestigious schools coming to us, as well as from other countries). The state certification allows us to give out Certificates when the student completes our program. Next, on the list for the school, is to be able to offer associate degrees. Considering that the owner, Charles Zembillas, started in the back of a restaurant a few years ago this is quite a accomplishment..

The Animation Academy has two student-art-directed-by-instructors productions under our belt. The first was an original animated concept by Charles Zembillas, he did everything up to key frames and had his students do the in-betweening over the course of a few years. Recently he just had a handful of students finish the coloring on it and it competes across the board. Six minutes of solid animation.

The second production was a Flash short and we negotiated the deal ourselves with the investors. This is one of the points we try to convey in our classes, artists can make deals. Now with this production we were just manual labor. The designs, storyboards and script were completed previously and by a different artist. The school and the students did the production but we did pay the students close to industry standard (which most studios don’t even pay these days). How many schools can offer education, experience and good pay? Not many, it’s old school Frank Lloyd type of thinking but it’s a classic brain frame that I’m glad to be a part of reviving . . . We are all working on that being a regular thing.

The Animation Academy practices the fundamentals of art but we also practice the fundamentals of artists’ legal rights with classes like “Business Law for Artists” with Randall J. Kelley, Esq., an attorney with 20 years’ experience with copyrights and contract negotiations for major art publishers and studios. Randall is a personal friend of mine and I truly believe he offers precious insight for anyone that pursues art as a career. Although our main focus is on solid drawing, with instructors from just about every major animation studio in Burbank – Jose Lopez, Thomas Perkins, Gregg Davidson, Kristen Sych, John Nevarez, Richard Chavez, Alan Simmons and Stephen Silver – we still stress the importance of good business sense and sensibilities . . . after all this is a business . . . I can’t think of another school that offers Business Law class as part of their full time certified programs

We also have an offspring site called animationnation.com. It’s a message board with some of the most talented, knowledgeable people in the art industries, who are all willing to share their knowledge. I love them all, even the ones I can’t stand, he he. It’s a fun online place to learn and find out what the real deal is in the art industry….and not just animation, we have members from all walks of life and all over the world…our thousandth member just registered tonight and we have thousands more who just read

On a personal tip, I feel at home when I’m at The Animation Academy. There’s a brotherhood there, the knowledge passed through there lifts people up to the level they want to be at. Sure I’ve seen people filtered through the school to never return…but that’s the way of things. I can’t find the right words of appreciation to communicate where I’m coming from . . . I guess it’s all about walking a mile in a brutha’s shoes.

DT: What other projects are you working on?

The Red Star and The Animation Academy take a lot of my focus, but my A.D.D. keeps me desiring collaboration with others constantly. One thing I would say to the peeps just starting out is to keep yourself versatile but not stretched too thin. Finish what you start, the obvious cliche for a reason. Learn every aspect. Comics used to be the cheapest way to test a multi media property on a market, now it’s the internet. Sure the internet doesn’t make you any money, well neither does comics. They’re both two different ways to do the same thing, market yourself for potential future investors.

If you’re a creator, you ultimately have the power and if you’re willing to make the journey across the desert to reach your destination, your destination will be worth the long trip . . . or short, depending on life, he he.

But I can’t stress the power of the internet enough. With Dot-Com-Failures it could seem bleak, but those fuck heads approached the whole thing wrong and with too much money . . . kinda like what we saw happen in the mid-nineties in comics . . . BOOM!!! “Why my lip all busted up, and where’s my money?”. It’s all about solid content.

        

Colorists See the Light: Paul Mounts

Posted March 1, 2002 By Dave Thomer

Paul Mounts is the colorist for Marvel’s The Ultimates, Black Bull’s Just a Pilgrim, Image Comics’ Tellos, and Vertigo’s SCI-Spy. (Check out two covers for Just a Pilgrim: Garden of Eden. He has been an artist in comics for over fifteen years, and currently heads up his own studio, Bongotone. ) His cover for The Ultimates 2 is the basis of this update’s cover image.

DT: What motivated you to get into coloring? What motivates you to keep doing it?

PM: After spending three years drawing and coloring storyboards and animatics for television commercials, I needed a change. I saw what the advertising world does to people — art directors at age 40 looking 65 and drinking at 9:30 in the morning-and was really bored spending entire days drawing dog food, cereal flakes, and deliriously happy people eating Big Macs. I’d always loved comics, and at that time there were a few publishers in here in Chicago (First, Now and Comico) that I could pencil, ink letter and color for. Then one day an old high school friend who was drawing for Marvel (Tom Morgan) was working on a series that they need higher-end coloring on, and showed the editor (Howard Mackie) some of my storyboard work. I helped Marvel get setup with a local service bureau to make the blue-lines form the original art (since at that point the only higher -end coloring that they had done was either on the original art or on greyline stats). After that series got published, I was suddenly known as a colorist, so that’s the work that kept coming my way. It’s paid my bills for quite a few years now, and when you’ve got a wife, kids and mortgage, that’s motivation.

Beyond that, however, I think that I can bring something to the books I work on that is unique, and that feels good. And I still pencil and ink sometimes — I’ll have a pinup in Just A Pilgrim: Garden of Eden #4.

DT: What are the skills you needed to learn to do the job well? How did you go about learning them?

PM: The time I did storyboards was boot camp. You can learn more in 6 weeks at a good studio than you can in 6 years of art school. You learn to concentrate on the basics, the storytelling. You learn how to lead the eye through a scene, and how to trick the viewer into seeing exactly what you want him to see. How lighting affects mood, and the importance of the basic contrasts: Light against dark (the most important!), warm against cool, saturated against unsaturated. When I was freelancing for Continuity Associates, Neal Adams once gave me an afternoon crash course in the importance of these three contrasts that’s stayed with me in all the years since. The important skills are in threes — the three contrasts, the three levels of importance when approaching a scene, and the three things you need to have/be to succeed. The skills are: 1) Tell the story (the most important); 2) set the mood (important, but subordinate if it obscures the storytelling); 3) render it up pretty (relatively unimportant, often unnecessary). You need at least two of the three things to succeed: 1) be on time; 2) be really good at what you do; 3) be a really nice/easy person to work with.

DT: Could you take us through the evolution of coloring a little bit from your perspective? How have the tools and the processes changed?

PM: When I started, fully-painted blueline color was just getting going (middle 1980’s). We went all digital in the fall of 1994, and it was perfect timing, as right when we got computers the blueline work started drying up overnight. Which was fine; after airbrushing Dr. Martin dyes and gouache for so many years, I was sneezing rainbow colors from inhaling all the fumes. (And, yes, I had a large industrial air cleaner/filter attached across the top of my drawing board, but that can only catch so much . . .)

We never used the vector-based coloring software that Steve Oliff developed; I’ve been Mac and Photoshop since day one. Viva le Mac! The operating system for those with superior taste and intellect. Death to the PC traitors!! (I’m kidding! No flames, please!).

DT: When you first start on a page, what are the first things that go through your mind? What are the initial creative choices you make to set the direction for the finished page?

PM: I guess I answered part of this in the last question. The first and most important thing-what’s the point of the cover/page? What’s the story it’s trying to tell? What was the penciller/inker trying to accomplish? And how can I amplify that? On the Ultimates 2 cover, it was, at its heart and for all its detail, a relatively simple scene showing the power and mood of Iron Man; basically, to create a sense of wonder in a superhero that’s been seen hundreds of times before in various incarnations. The background had to fall back, both to pop Iron Man forward and to create a sense of darkened-lab drama. The drama on the figure comes from the various lights playing off of the armor. (See a side by side comparison of the line-art and colored versions.)

DT: What do you think comics readers should look for when they look at a page, in terms of coloring, in order to fully appreciate the work?

PM: I like well-chosen simple color rather than overly rendered art that makes no sense and confuses the eye. I also appreciate a colorist that’s not scared of color. There’s a growing trend to use really grey, monochromatic schemes in an attempt to be “mature,” but if comes off as dismal if not handled correctly. The grey scenes have much more punch if contrasted with colorful scenes. Uninterrupted unsaturated colors are as harsh and diluting to the eye as uninterrupted bright color.

DT: What’s the work process like? What stages does the piece move through?

PM: We either get scans on disc or from an ftp site, or the original art is sent to us for scanning. My assistants resize and format the scans and lay in flat color. Then I take the pages and rework the palette and render them up.

DT: What’s your work environment like? How many books are you working on at a given time?

PM: Like any good artist, my studio is generally an ungodly mass of clutter, from toys, plots and comic reference to old coffee cups and food wrappers. (Because all the best food is wrapped for you sanitized consumptive pleasure!)

In the studio this week: SCI Spy 3, Just a Pilgrim: Garden of Eden 2, Ultimates 3, the cover for Ultimates 6, the cover for Just a Pilgrim 4, the covers for SCI Spy 5 and 6, X-Factor 1, a Dragon Tales children’s book, a Superman Playstation magazine cover, thirteen Superman Gameboy screens, a 10 page Rogue/Wolverine story for Unlimited X-Men, promo artwork for Garth Ennis, Amanda Conner and Jimmy Palmitotti’s Pro, the next Tellos book, and lettering on a pitch for a new comic by Todd Dezago and Craig Rousseau. Whew . . . lucky I only sleep about 4 hours a night! But I have two assistants, Ken Wolak and Jeff Engert, that keep things moving through the pipeline.

DT: That workload sounds insane. How do you keep it up? In an ideal world, would you do that many books at once?

PM: That sounds a bit ridiculous, I know. But they’re not all getting done start-to-finish in one week, obviously. Some jobs are coming in, some are going out, but it’s all in various stages of completion during this week. One of the tricks of the freelance life for any artist is juggling projects and budgeting time — just as valuable a skill as the artistic ability.

Admittedly, you caught us at a busy time. I really have been going round the clock lately and just not sleeping. If you go to the ComicColor web site, you’ll see that I’m not the only one. Scheduling can be tough, and everything can get backed up if even one penciller/inker is late with pages, or if something hits you unexpectedly (covers that need to be done immediately for solicitation, etc.).

In an ideal world, I’d be a reclusive billionaire.

DT: What do you need from your collaborators in order for you to do your job to the best of your ability?

PM: We all need to learn that sleep is for chumps.

I like to stay in contact with the pencillers on the books I color. I talk with Bryan Hitch regularly on Ultimates (even though he gives me an unbelievably free hand to do what I want). I also need the plot of the book I’m coloring. Which sounds really basic, but I’ve seen some colorists do entire runs on books without once looking at a plot.

I also need time. If I get the line art the day before a book goes to press, there’s no way I can do my best work. The letterers and the colorists are the end of the line, and any time lost by the writer, the penciller or the inker has to be made up by us.

DT: How well do you think the comics industry recognizes and fulfills those needs?

PM: It’s not always (never?) perfect, but I’ve had very good luck generally, working with artists and editors who really are trying their best. It’s very rare that I’ve run into someone who unabashedly abuses the system.

DT: How much time do you need to do your best work, from start to finish?

PM: Even after all these years, I have no idea how to answer this. Every project is different. It’s an artists’ maxim that if we have three weeks to do a job, it’ll take three weeks. If we’re told we have four days, we’ll do it in four days. The project will expand to fill the time allotted to it. That, combined with my rather anal-retentive and control-freak personality is probably why I’ll never be enough of an efficiency expert to run a big factory-type studio.

DT: What work by other colorists do you particularly enjoy?

PM: Well, obviously the others that you’ve interviewed here, plus Lee Loughridge, Guy Major, Richard Isanove, Matt Hollingsworth, Liquid. That’s off the top of my head; as soon as this is out of my hands I’m sure I’ll be kicking myself for forgetting about 10 others I should have mentioned. Also artists who color their own work, like Michael Golden and Dave Johnson, and Japanese and European artists like Yoshitaka Amano, Moebius, Bilal, and Daniel Torres. Also, movies (City of Lost Children, Citizen Kane and Double Indemnity (black and white, but the tonal storytelling –wow!) and any of the cinematography of Jack Cardiff) and comic strips (the Sundays of George Herriman and Bill Watterson), and most importantly, real life.

        

Colorists See the Light: Brandon McKinney

Posted March 1, 2002 By Dave Thomer

Brandon McKinney is the artist on two upcoming graphic novels from AiT/Planet Lar: the superhero Planet of the Capes (written by Larry Young) and the SF Switchblade Honey (written by Warren Ellis). He has adapted Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones into a big-little book for Chronicle, and a coloring book (Heroes and Villains) for Random House. The Star Wars works will be out in May; the graphic novels are scheduled to come out this year. Both of the GNs are black and white, which might raise the question of what he’s doing in a feature on colorists. McKinney essentially ‘colors’ his own pencil work in Photoshop, using graytones instead of a full color palette. The result is much more textured than black and white art typically is. (Check out page 3 of Planet of the Capes.)

DT: What’s your training and background?

BM: I’m mostly self-taught, but I received a B.A. in Fine Art at UCLA. I was also fortunate enough to apprentice under Gil Kane and Steve Rude while I was down there. I learned a lot from both of them.

DT: How did you get involved with comics?

BM: Ever since reading them as a kid, I knew I wanted to draw them. My first job was in high school with SilverWolf Comics in Sacramento. Didn’t get paid much but got a taste of the business. In college, my buddy Darick Robertson hooked me up with Innovation Comics to do some Child’s Play comics. That led to my meeting Andy Mangels, a writer who got me involved with Elfquest and Lucasfilm. Darick also introduced me to Larry Young who I’m working with now on Planet of the Capes.

DT: How would you describe your art?

BM: I’ve heard my art descibed as “traditional”, in the sense that I didn’t jump on the Jim Lee bandwagon or do Manga-style faces. No disrespect to either of those influences, but they weren’t me. I grew up on Ross Andru and Gil Kane’s Spider-Man, John Byrne’s Fantastic Four and George Perez’s Teen Titans. Those are what stuck with me. I just try to draw in a dynamic straight forward sense that suits the story.

DT: How and why did you develop the techniques that you use?

BM: The black & white tones I’m using for Planet of the Capes came as a result of knowing the book would be in black & white and I wanted to get as much out of the art as possible. I’d started doing it for an Elfquest project, since I knew that would be in black & white as well, and I liked how it was going. I figured I’d use the same process I’d started on EQ with Larry’s book. It’s easier that doing full color since I just have to make value judgements (which areas should be shaded darker or lighter) and my color sense is still in its early development.

DT: What advantages and disadvantages do you think B&W art has over color art? How do you attempt to maximize the advantages and/or minimize the disadvantages?

BM: I think the B&W art has advantages in that it can be easier to read. Bad color can distract from the artwork and thus the story. I don’t think I could do a color book as well as I could a B&W book right now, until I gain more experience. But a well colored book can be mind blowing. I think the stuff that Laura DePuy, Moose Bauman and Paul Mounts produce is gorgeous — they really know how to set a mood with their color choices and themes. In attempting to maximize the advantages and/or minimize the disadvantages, I just try to apply the same principle of using more or less shading to create a mood or an atmosphere. I may not be able to show the reader the difference in the characters’ costumes, but hopefully the book will look better than if it were just B&W line art.

DT: When you say you ‘wanted to get the most out of the art’ in black and white, what exactly do you mean? Does using the graytones offer up any new storytelling tools that might be harder to use with line art? Or does it come down to the mood and atmosphere you mention?

BM: Most black & white comics are printed just that way: Black & white. Doing the gray tones allows a broader palette to work with. I admire the great artists who can use black & white effectively: Alex Toth, Steve Rude, Dave Lapham and Dave Sim to name a few off the top of my head. They know you to make the art interesting without any color or greys at all (well, Steve Rude used zip-a-tone, so he should get credit for cutting all that stuff out!) I find the tones just make my art look better than if it were just black & white. I can make things darker for scenes that take place at night, less if it’s a day scene. It does help the atmosphere.

DT: Does knowing that you’re going to tone the art yourself affect the way you do the line art itself? If so, how?

BM: It definitely does. For example, I won’t ink in a night sky because I know I’ll fill it in with a dark grey. I’ll do less shading on faces and skin, less texture on rocks, streets, metal, etc. because I know I can make it look better when I work on the pages in Photoshop.

DT: When you do line art and then give it to someone else to do full color on it, what kind of communication goes on between the penciller and the colorist? In an ideal world, how would the penciller, inker and colorist interact?

BM: When I did just pencil art, I would (and I know other pencillers do this) make notes in the margins to the colorist about if I’d want something a certain color, or if I wanted a certain line or set of lines to be changed to another color. In an ideal world, either the three artists (penciller, inker & colorist) are in phone contact, work in the same office, or they are the same person. I know there are times when I’ve picked up a finished issue of a book I worked on and been pretty disappointed by how the colorist finished the work. I’ve been pleasantly surprised in some cases, but that isn’t as common as the opposite reaction. I really like that I get to finish my own work. It stands or falls on its own merits.

DT: Could you perhaps describe in some detail how you go about creating the tones? What tools do you use, and when you’re looking at the page, what kinds of things are you thinking about?

BM: I’ll answer this assuming that the reader has a basic knowledge of Photoshop (which is all I really have anyway!). I basically use the Paintbrush, Pencil, Airbrush and Fill/Paint Bucket tools to do the basics. When I discovered how to use the Lasso and the Magic Wand tools, that opened up a world of possibilities in the art. You can get a variety of great effects by selecting an area and using the Gradient tool to create a blend of dark to light (or light to dark) tones that can help show a light source very well.

If I find I’ve toned a figure or panel and it isn’t dark enough, I can create a new layer, set it to Multiply and go over the art with a light Paintbrush to push the tones darker. I also like using the Motion Blur effect to create the illusion of movement. It gives panels a very cinematic appeal (see the bottom panel on page 5).

When I do the tones, I’m mostly thinking about light sources. I know painters do this more than line artists. I want to pick where the light source(s) are coming from and emphasize those. I also want to think about emphasizing or de-emphasizing foreground objects from background ones. I can do this by coloring one darker than another, or blurring one and keeping the other sharp. With line art, an artist usually puts a thicker outline around a foreground object and/or adds more spot blacks to it. It’s basically all about choosing where you want the readers’ eyes to go in the panel or the page.

DT: Any final thoughts?

BM: I hope people respond well to Planet of the Capes despite its lack of color. Larry Young and I hope that it has the same appeal as film noir — that the readers can use their imaginations to fill in the color if they so choose. I really enjoy the look of it and I hope it provides an alternative to the mainstream super-hero comics that are out there.